


You Don't Know How Lucky You Are

by berlynn_wohl



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, First Time, Hot Tub, M/M, Pining, Shyness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 19:50:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13818240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: Hermann's crush on Newt reaches a fever pitch when they're both invited on a weekend cabin trip. But does Newt feel the same way? (This fic is rated Explicit, so I think we can all guess.)





	You Don't Know How Lucky You Are

Hermann watched out the window as the roads upon which he and his colleagues were traveling got narrower and rougher. He gently bobbed his head back and forth to the song on the radio, having tuned out by now most of the conversation going on in the front seats. Unlike Hermann, James and Anaya both knew how to drive, and they talked ceaselessly about the current road conditions, similar road conditions they had encountered in the past, entirely different road conditions they had encountered in the past, and how each car they had ever driven had handled all these various scenarios.

It didn't bother Hermann that they were talking about something that did not interest him at all. He had noticed that many of his colleagues, cooped up in various Shatterdomes, had begun to talk dreamily of all sorts of things they missed from their civilian lives, including the freedom and power of driving a car. And so now that James and Anaya had this opportunity, the most mundane discussion of driving them in various circumstances — while also actually driving one! — was a well-deserved indulgence.

The last of these increasingly rural roads turned out not to be a road at all, but a long driveway leading to the cabin. Anaya parked at the end of this driveway, in front another car and a Jeep that had already arrived, and just as they were hauling themselves out to stretch and complain lightly about the long drive, Ben opened the front door and greeted his guests.

There were ten wide steps leading down to the porch; Ben climbed them to help with everyone's luggage. Hermann did not ask for help with his own bags, handling them on one shoulder and stepping down slowly with his cane in his other hand, but by the time he was down, the others were already halfway through their second trip, carrying in the food and their cold-weather gear.

Hermann had not been given many details about this cabin; he had only been invited. He'd pictured four walls and a roof, a wood stove. He’d had no idea that it would be a sleek, modern A-frame with enormous picture windows. Once inside, a few glances told him that this cabin had all the modern conveniences — even more so, in some respects, than the lab in the Anchorage Shatterdome, where he'd made his home for the last several years. A laptop was open on the kitchen counter, which suggested strong wifi. A Keurig machine was dispensing coffee for Miyu — her face did not brighten in the least when she looked up and saw Hermann, but she called out in a politely cheerful tone, “Hey everyone, Hermann's here too!”

A mild chorus greeted him from the living room, where the rest of the PPDC's K-science division were gathered around the fire — Lowry, Chris, and Newt. Miyu rejoined them and their conversation, saying no more to Hermann. Meanwhile, Ben, Anaya, and James came bustling into the kitchen, dropping their food and gear while Ben explained all the accommodations.

“There's two bedrooms in the loft, each with a queen bed. Chris and Miyu get one” — of course they did, they'd been together for quite some time — “and James, you'll be bunking with me, if that's alright. There's also two futons up there, so Newt gets one and Lowry gets one. Now, Hermann.” Ben gestured to Hermann to follow him to a little room, or perhaps a generous closet, between the kitchen and the front door.

“I know you don't do stairs well, so this one's for you. It's not the nicest room, but you get a bed all to yourself.”

“This will be fine,” Hermann said, setting his bags down. The tiny, undecorated room with the single half-window was still brighter and cleaner than his room at the Shatterdome.

Ben went on to point out the bathrooms, explain about the central heating controls, and spell out the wifi password, then instructed everyone to make themselves at home. “The only rules are: no work talk, and no war talk. This is a vacation.”

Hermann was confident that he could follow these rules, if in no other way than by being quiet; he barely remembered how to talk about anything besides his research and the efforts of his colleagues in the Shatterdome. He especially would have liked to talk about the recent organizational changes: this weekend trip, generously arranged by Ben, whose parents owned the cabin, was not just a brief bit of R&R for the K-scientists. It was also a sort of going-away party for Chris and Miyu, who were moving to Europe, where they would do climatology work in Norway and probably marry soon. Then, the formerly robust K-science division would be down to six, the rest having moved on, some to the “Rod From God” project, some to the Kaiju Wall, others — the ones who'd burned out from the stress and strain of their work — to positions entirely outside the PPDC, mostly in Europe, as far from the high-risk Pacific coasts as possible.

Hermann fretted constantly about the future of the program, but his curiosity and desire for shared speculation would go unsatisfied here. He would sit by the fire with a cup of hot cocoa and listen to his colleagues discuss trivial topics. Irrelevancies. But the food would be better, and the cabin also smelled considerably better than the lab.

Having availed himself of the Keurig machine, Hermann came in to the living room to settle in. There was a seat next to Newt on the sofa. Hermann looked around, made sure that everyone was accounted for and that he was not taking anyone else's claimed spot. It seemed a boon, that he might be able to sit next to Newt. In fact, it was peculiarly fortuitous. Hermann was suddenly overcome with a pang of paranoia, that the space had deliberately been left open for him because everyone knew how he felt about Newt. But no, that couldn't be. All anyone had ever seen was him and Newt bickering, and despite their professional tension having prompted the occasional ironic teasing — “Get a room, you two!” — he was certain that no one knew about his feelings. He took the seat next to Newt, and drank his cocoa.

Newt did not notice or greet Hermann, being engaged in a very intense discussion with Lowry about the continuity of a particular comic book. Though Hermann was entirely unfamiliar with this comic, he contentedly listened to Newt speaking. Even doing this, though, made him nervous — would he be accused of mooning over Newt, willing to listen to him talk about anything at all, just to hear the sound of his voice? But no, his attention to Newt could be justified by the dismal alternatives: Chris and Miyu were cuddling on the loveseat, wrapped up in their own little world, which made Hermann so uncomfortable that he could hardly stand even to glance at it, and Ben was asking James and Anaya about the drive up, which they were happy to relate at length. Hermann already knew that story.

So he listened to Newt, and tried not to look at him in a suspiciously affectionate way. Newt was turned away from him, his attention on Lowry, but Hermann studied the shell of his ear and the back of his neck, and then his eyes traveled down to the outline of the tattoo on his forearm. It was Yamarashi, in black and white for now — Newt was planning to have it colored in soon. In his hand, Newt held a drink, a glass of amber liquor. Hermann gazed at Newt’s fingers, at the fine hairs on the back of his hand, the variety of bracelets on his wrist. Nothing, absolutely nothing about Newt should have appealed to him, wild and silly as it all was, and yet he had been enamored of Newt for a while now, at the gestalt of him. The thing that made up his inner being had infused his punk appearance, softened it and made it all the more endearing.

By three in the afternoon, it was dark, and so the evening intimacy of a remote cabin trip came early to the group, and though they had not even eaten dinner together yet, the conversations converged and flowed, facilitated by more alcohol, as the darkness convinced everyone that it was now an appropriate time to open bottles of wine. Even when Ben and Lowry went into the kitchen to start work on dinner, the open floor plan allowed them to continue participating in the discussion that had most recently emerged, about the bizarre dating culture of the Shatterdomes. Those with more knowledge compared and contrasted their experiences at different locations, with Chris and Miyu being smugly quiet, having managed to bypass such furtive and seedy romantic entanglements by finding each other very shortly after Trespasser made landfall. Hermann said nothing, and seethed with jealousy whenever Newt chimed in, although his comments did not make it clear whether he was relating his own experiences or merely passing along anecdotes and conventional wisdom that he'd gathered from other sources.

The dinner table could not accommodate eight, so the gathering broke into smaller groups during the meal. Hermann found himself paralyzed with indecision about where to sit: did he want to be next to Newt, for maximum proximity, or did he want to sit across from him, for a better view? He took so long to make up his mind, others claimed both spots, and Hermann ended up sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter with Ben, who sat down last, after he'd finished serving the food.

Warm, fed, and tipsy to varying degrees, the group became at once more relaxed and more lively; at first it had been difficult not to talk about the war, but they were now rediscovering the joy of being free of cares about their jobs and about the kaiju, and they drifted, individually and collectively, in and out of discussions about music, food, vacation destinations past and future, video games, and families back home. Though no one was falling over themselves to be social with Hermann, he did chat with Lowry about Stephen Hawking’s latest assertions about AI, and with Anaya about London, where they had both lived for a while.

All conversation was interrupted when James’ voice, loud and sharp with excitement, cut through the room: “Oh man, I forgot about the hot tub. Hey, who wants to go in the hot tub?”

Everyone but Hermann expressed enthusiasm, though Hermann also found the prospect pleasant. “Would we all fit?” he asked no one in particular.

Ben confirmed, “Sure, eight is no problem.” He slowly turned a hundred and eighty degrees, to address the entire group: “I know I told you guys there were only two rules, but I lied. The third rule is: this weekend, the hot tub is clothing-optional _only_ after it gets dark. Sorry, but we do have a couple neighbors up the hill.”

Everyone else seemed to find this rule unremarkable, but Hermann's pulse began to race. Not just a hot tub, but a _clothing-optional_ hot tub? He had not been informed of any of this, and so had not come prepared with a swimsuit.

He stayed where he was, and waited for someone else to beg off, to say that they planned to stay inside instead, by the fire. But no such declaration was forthcoming. If Hermann was going to stay in, he would stay in alone. He hated being so pathetic, but he felt he had no choice. He got up and crossed the kitchen to his little room, to find his tablet. He would catch up on some reading, while the others were outside. On the way back to the living room, he bumped into Newt.

“Hey,” Newt said, pointing at the tablet, “aren't you getting in the hot tub?”

“I, ah, I didn't know there was one,” Hermann said, holding the tablet to his chest, “and I didn't bring a swimsuit.”

“That's no problem,” Newt said with a shrug. “Ben said you don't need one.”

“Yes, but I, ah...” Hermann stammered, looked at the floor.

“Do you not...?” Whatever Newt was going to say, he held his tongue, and tried again: “Listen man, I'll tell you what. I brought some board shorts, and they'd probably fit you okay.”

The offer was generous but odd, and Hermann couldn't think of a way to politely refuse, so he said, “Alright.” Newt dashed upstairs and brought Hermann the board shorts, and Hermann went back into his room to change. When he came out, he saw that a stack of towels had been placed by the patio door, but everyone was taking their sweet time, still fully dressed, chatting and giggling from a little too much wine. Hermann seemed to be the only one ready to go, but he was alright with that, as he knew he would need a little extra time to climb into the hot tub, and he didn't care for everyone watching him while he did so. He judged the distance from the patio door, and decided that he could do without bringing his cane. He left it by the door, took a towel, went out onto the patio, and climbed slowly, carefully into the tub.

The hot water felt wonderful on his leg and hip, especially after the cramped, hours-long car ride. Even a bath was an unheard-of luxury in the Shatterdome, which made this heaven. The only light came from inside the cabin, through the enormous windows; aside from that, it was just dark and peaceful forest all around, and a spectacularly starry sky above. Hermann had a minute or two to bask alone in this delightful ambience, before he heard the click of the door, and the voices of Lowry, Ben, and James. All of them were wrapped in towels, and when they hung the towels up near the tub, Hermann saw that all three were quite naked. He politely averted his eyes, though in the darkness, there was not much to see.

As Lowry climbed in, he looked at Hermann, specifically at his swimsuit, which was dark and quite visible under the water. He scoffed, “Hermann, you are the worst German I've ever met.” He explained to the others, “When I went to Germany, I mean, you could not keep clothes on those people. They fucking love being naked. It's not even a sexual thing, they just walk around the parks, public pools, wherever. They call it freaker culture or something.”

“ _Freikörperkultur_ ,” Herman softly corrected. He braced himself for an interrogation into his incongruous shyness, but once the others were settled, the talk quickly turned to streaking, with Ben relating a story of a years-past group sprint around a remote house, preceded by shots. What put this story above any typical yarn about youthful silliness was a participant called Kurt, who chugged fireball whiskey and, when offered a chaser to ameliorate the harshness, instead grabbed a bottle of barbecue sauce, squeezed a cascade of it down his throat, and screamed “I ain't no bitch!” before tearing off his clothes and running out the door.

Chris and Miyu arrived in the middle of the story, both wrapped in towels, but Hermann did not see the straps of any swimsuit on Miyu's exposed shoulders. They, too, were taking advantage of the no-clothing option.

Finally, Newt and Anaya ambled out, talking about Anaya's tattoos, all of them depicting molecules — caffeine, serotonin, dopamine. Hermann's heart skipped a beat as Hermann remembered: Newt must be naked under his towel, because he'd given Hermann his swimsuit.

Which meant that Hermann was the only one in the hot tub who was not naked.

Adrenaline flooded his body as he was overwhelmed by two very different but equally powerful anxieties: that he was a weirdo who couldn't bring himself to be uninhibited about his body, and that he was about to see Newt's private parts. Where these feelings converged was the confusing and upsetting realization that Newt was not as much of a weirdo as Hermann was. Hermann's fondness for Newt was rooted at least in part by his belief that they were the two oddballs of the group — the other K-scientists might have been geeky and strange in school compared to the jocks and the prom queens, but as adults they were well-adjusted and neurotypical, most of them former military, and sharing the solidarity that came with that culture. All of this left Newt and Hermann the misfits among the misfits.

But here was Newt chatting amicably and being casually naked, just like everyone else. He was acting like...well, almost like a normal person. When he climbed into the hot tub, Hermann couldn't help but look at his naked body, hoping that in the dark and the commotion, no one could see that he was gawking.

Hermann then watched in shock as Newt, the last one in, refused to cram himself in where he'd first landed. Instead, he cut across the tub and asked Lowry to scoot over, to give him room. Newt was going to sit right next to _him_. Hermann drew in a deep breath remind himself not to be delusional. Perhaps Newt was actually trying to sit next to Lowry.

Ben's streaking story prompted a cascade of other, similar tales, and one by one, Hermann's colleagues, all disciplined scientists like himself, related comically lurid adventures from their college days, or even summer camp indiscretions. Hermann listened and did not contribute, as he had spent his youth friendless and isolated, even more shy then than he was now. If a comparable social situation had presented itself to him at age sixteen, he likely would have refused to get into a hot tub at all, electing instead to stay in and read, and occasionally feel sorry for himself, when he heard the sound of laughter from outside.

But he hadn't come so far, and in fact, he felt more sixteen on the inside than he felt thirty. Part of him wanted to be relaxed and uninhibited, like the others, to remove his swimsuit and blithely expose his thick, puckered surgery scars. Who would care? Who would be so rude as to make fun of them? But it was too late. It was too late this evening to decide that he would go naked after all, and it was too late in his life to become that person, free and comfortable with himself.

Hermann tried to push back these unpleasant feelings. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, maybe not for normal people, but likely for himself, and so he listened to the conversation, looked up at the stars, and luxuriated in the hot water. He laughed when James asked the group, “Who wants to jump in the river?” It seemed just about the most preposterous thing anyone could suggest, on such a cold night. But Newt immediately shouted, “Let's do it!” and stood up, shamelessly revealing his entire body to the group. Hermann, his face now mere inches from Newt's right hip, thought he might die. Lowry took up the challenge, too — Chris might well have, but he had Miyu in his lap, and didn't seem inclined to get up.

Ben, Newt, and Lowry leapt from the tub and raced to the river. It was too shallow to dive in, but they waded in with all possible speed, to avoid appearing chicken in front of the group. It was too dark to see much, but the whooping and hollering told everyone remaining in the tub everything they needed to know. “Have fun,” Anaya scoffed at their foolishness.

When the three men returned, loudly joking about how far into their body their genitals had retreated, the light was behind them, so any attempt by Hermann to determine how much Newt was exaggerating about the current dimensions of his penis and testicles was in vain.

Newt jumped back into the tub, lunging into the seat next to Hermann, no longer screeching about how cold he was but now screeching about how being in the hot water again was making him feel as though he were on fire. His stunt had allowed Hermann to feel a little vicarious thrill — he hadn't done anything himself, but he'd been present for something, and that was exciting, too. It was a pleasant excitement, a kind which he had not yet felt that evening. Eventually, his heart and stomach settled down, and he allowed himself to fantasize a little, that he and Newt were sitting next to each other because they were a couple, just like Chris and Miyu. Not a mooning, fawning couple, but one so used to each other's company that their proximity had become comfortable and casual, which was why they weren’t touching or looking at each other.

Although Newt never said anything directly to Hermann — he mostly addressed the group as a whole, telling stories and bragging — Hermann almost felt like his fantasy was real. Almost. He couldn't help but also think of how naturally Newt was fitting into this situation, which must mean, Hermann reasoned, that he was used to having this kind of fun, this high-spirited group intimacy. While Hermann was being studious and lonely, Newt had been having fun, which somehow made him more sophisticated — a word Hermann would never before have used to describe Newt. Perhaps “worldly” was better. Whatever the term was for someone who had streaked, snuck beer, had sex somewhere other than a bed, and actually had a good time at parties. Newt's exuberance enthralled Hermann, but at the same time made him hopelessly insecure.

 _Stop being an idiot and just enjoy this_ , he tried to tell himself. _Stop comparing yourself to others. There's nothing you can do about the past, except to not let it ruin the present_. Hermann was so frustrated with himself, he was fighting back tears. He had an urge to leave, but resisted it; if he went inside, he wouldn't feel any better; the only difference would be that he would no longer be close to a naked, cheerful Newt.

When Miyu announced, “Alright, I think I'm fully cooked,” others began to shift and murmur that they were feeling similarly inclined to go back inside. The cabin only had two showers, so people went in one or two at a time, waiting to see their predecessors through the window, dressed, signaling that one shower or the other was now available.

In the bright bathroom light, washing the chlorine smell away, Hermann considered masturbating to the vague, blurry memory of Newt's bare chest, sparse hair matted by the water, and perhaps also the way his behind had jiggled as he'd run toward the river. But he immediately dismissed the notion; others were waiting their turn, after all. He would find some tissues and do it later, after he went to bed.

The lights had been turned low in the living room, and Hermann found his colleagues gathered loosely around the fire, although someone was always up and about, getting dessert from the kitchen, or opening another bottle of wine. The conversation was a more sedate continuation of what had been going on in the hot tub: reminiscences and reflections. But someone's memory of a visit to a science museum turned to talk of the discontinued government space programs, which resulted in Chris mentioning Elon Musk.

A few groans and sighs went up, as this was a controversial subject: When NASA and the JPL had suspended space exploration in 2015 to redirect their resources to the kaiju war, Elon Musk had doubled down on his private ventures, putting everything he had into getting humans into space. This was a hotly contested topic among scientists worldwide, and on this particular evening, most everyone in the group knew better than to discuss it, not being in the mood for it after a day that had been so relaxing. Newt and Hermann, however, ignored every social cue put forth by their colleagues, and began to argue.

“We have understood for decades that the human race must become multiplanetary in order to survive,” Hermann asserted. “All of our efforts in space exploration were for a specific reason, and that was the awareness that some day, a cataclysmic event would end human life on Earth, and if we hadn't established any colonies by then, we would be finished. We are probably in the middle of that event right now. Nothing else has ever come along that is a greater threat to human life than the kaiju.”

A few quiet jeers from the group reminded Hermann that he was breaking the rules, but being too tired to truly attempt to stop him, they instead rolled off the sofas, or got up off the floor, and began to retire to bed. Except for Newt.

“Uh, that’s great, but Elon is not working fast enough,” Newt said. “I mean it’s cool that ten years from now, billionaires will be able to just hop in a tube and go to Mars for the weekend, but in the meantime, Earth is our home, and seven billion people are stuck here, and we should focus on defending it. We can't just abandon the planet because of a couple marauding kaiju. That would be like if you saw a cockroach in your apartment and moved to another state.”

Anaya, the last remaining spectator, picked up her wine glass and left Newt and Hermann to fight it out. “If I saw a cockroach in my apartment, I _would_ move to another state,” she remarked on her way upstairs.

“This is a war,” Hermann said, ignoring her, “and wars accelerate the technology that ultimately ends them. Imagine if the Americans eschewed building the atomic bomb, because it 'wasn’t the time to focus on new, experimental avenues.' The war would have gone on for years longer, more cities would have been leveled, and when it was finally over, without the Americans having the Bomb as leverage, the Russians would have kept marching west and they would have been unstoppable.”

Newt leaned forward, getting into Hermann’s face a little. “Well, if you're so in love with solving the problem from space, why haven't you left to work on the Rod From God?”

Hermann dismissed this concept with a wave of his hand. “Oh, anyone can fritter away their time crunching numbers on how to drop a telephone pole made of tungsten carbide onto a kaiju into the middle of the ocean. But no one knows as much as I do about the Breach. And that's the point: in a war, everyone does what they are best at, yes? And Elon Musk is the best at figuring out how to get humankind off this planet.”

Unexpectedly, Hermann shivered with cold, and thus regained awareness of his surroundings: he and Newt were alone, all but one of the lights had been switched off, the heat had been turned down, and the once-roaring fire, left untended, was now only a few embers.

“Oh dear, what have I done,” Hermann said, looking around. “We were all having a good time, and I drove everyone away.”

“It's fine. Everyone was already going to bed. And anyway,” Newt said with a tilt of his head, “I know you'd been waiting all day to get me to yourself.” He patted Hermann on the knee, then gestured to the empty furniture. “Though I admit, I didn't think you'd work _this_ hard for it.”

Hermann's jaw dropped. Newt's expression was clearly visible, even in the dim light: a smug, solid certainty about what he had just said. “I —well,” Hermann stammered, “I can't, _hmph_ , I can’t believe that you'd think—”

Newt just kept smiling, and while Hermann enjoyed a good argument with Newt, he understood right now that it was no good to try to convince Newt that he was wrong. While he had not been expecting the conversation to turn in this direction, it was not at all a surprise to Hermann, to learn that he was entirely justified in his fear that his foolish little infatuation with Newt was apparent to everyone.

“But if you knew all along,” Hermann said, “why did you get into the hot tub naked? Why did you sit next to me, twice? Weren't you afraid I might, I don't know, get the wrong idea? Do something inappropriate, and make you uncomfortable?”

Newt closed his eyes and smiled as he shook his head. “Nah man, I knew you were too chicken to be a perv. I just did it ‘cause I wanted to give you a cheap thrill.”

This was not the worst, most flippant thing that Newt could have said, but it was completely unexpected, and thus Hermann felt its impact more keenly. Thoughtlessness was something Hermann had grown used to from Newt, but it seemed uncharacteristically cruel of him to be a tease. That Newt had toyed with Hermann just because he knew he could, to mock his unrequited desire, made Hermann's chest feel tight.

In that moment, however, he also felt something like relief. _Well, if Newt is really so nasty of a person, perhaps it will cure my infatuation, and I won't have to worry about it at all anymore. I can finally leave all this pathetic, anxious pining behind_. Hermann grabbed his cane, stood up, straightened his shoulders, and bid Newt a terse good night.

Newt leap to his feet. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Well, I'm certainly not going to sit here and be humiliated any longer!” Hermann stopped himself, inhaled sharply through his nose, and began to count in his head. He knew he was being overly dramatic, and ought to be more of an adult about all this—even if this was, essentially, a revelation of a childish crush at a sleepover. He tried again: “I would appreciate it, for the rest of this weekend, and after we return to work, if you would not say anything to anyone else about...about knowing how I feel. Felt. I'm sure we can be professionals about this. Let's just get through the rest of this trip, and we can forget all about it when we get back to the Shatterdome, hm?”

Newt slapped both hands against his forehead and raked them through his hair in frustration. “Hermann. Oh my god.” He gestured to Hermann, then to himself. “Hermann. Are you kidding me?” He was waiting for Hermann to understand something, but in his impatience, he finally whisper-shouted, “Don't you get it? I like you too, you idiot!”

Hermann scoffed at this. “Please stop teasing. If that were true, you would have told me long ago. You're worse at keeping something a secret than I apparently am.”

Newt grabbed Hermann’s arm, stopping him from turning to go again. “I didn’t say anything because I didn't think you'd go for it. I mean, for a long time I wasn’t sure whether you liked me or hated me, and even after I was fairly certain, I didn’t tell you because I figured if I made a move, you'd push me away, because it was _unprofessional_.” Newt said this last word in an absurdly mocking tone.

Hermann gestured to the cabin generally and the hot tub in particular. “But tonight you thought it would be acceptable for...for all of this to happen?”

“Because we're in a cabin for the weekend,” Newt said, as if this explained it all. When he registered Hermann’s nonplussed reaction, he elaborated: “We're having a little R and R, there’s a hot tub, it's all very romantic. Right?” Newt stepped closer to Hermann, running his hand up and down the length of his arm. “Don't you think it's kind of romantic?” he asked, giving him a pleading look.

Hermann couldn't answer. They were close enough that he could feel Newt's breath. It was such a little thing, but it felt unbearably intimate.

“Maybe just a little?” Newt whispered, and he gently took Hermann's face in his hands, and kissed him.

The press of Newt’s lips to Hermann’s own was like the first bite of food after a day spent neglecting his stomach: Hermann suddenly realized he was _starving_. He gasped into Newt's mouth, floored by the deliciousness of it. His body, already tightly wound from the argument, was now taut with electric bolts of unexpected pleasure. If Newt was amused by Hermann’s shock, he didn’t show it, just treated it as an invitation, and gently slipped his tongue into Hermann’s mouth.

Overwhelmed by the press of sensitive wet flesh, Hermann’s gut clenched, and he found himself beginning to get hard. His panicked hands grasped at air, until Newt guided them around himself. Now Hermann had Newt in his arms, to top it all off, and he was dizzy with disbelief.

Newt broke the kiss to whisper against Hermann’s mouth, “Oh man, you don’t know how lucky you are.”

The butterflies in Hermann’s stomach dissipated momentarily as he snorted, “Now _don’t_ flatter yourself.”

“That’s not what I meant. Well I mean, I _am_ amazing, yes. But listen: you’ve been given a gift.” Newt held his clenched fists up with excitement. “You have something so _precious_.”

Confused, Hermann tilted his head. “What’s that?”

Newt’s eyes glimmered mischievously. “A bedroom all to yourself in this cabin.”

He took Hermann by the hand and led him through the kitchen. Once in the bedroom, he flicked a lamp on, and the moment the door was closed, he began unbuttoning Hermann's pajama top. He spread it open, feeling up and down Hermann’s chest, muttering, “Yes, oh my God, this is really happening.” Hermann just froze, arms at his sides, unable to think about what was happening _now_ , because he was terrified about what would happen _next_.

When Newt reached for the drawstring of his pajama bottoms, Hermann said, “Wait.” Newt looked at Hermann's face, then at his cane leaning on the dresser, then over at the part of Hermann's body that he was about to undress. “We don't have to do this,” Newt said.

“I want to,” Hermann said. “But I...I don't want you to see...”

“Here, I'll just turn the light off.” Newt reached for the switch, but when he did, pale light still came in from the porch lights outside, and the moon. It was still too much illumination for Hermann, and he flinched when Newt tried again to undress him.

“Okay, I have an idea,” Newt said. “I have to go to get something out of my bag anyway, so why don't I go, and while I do, you can get naked and get under the covers. I won’t see anything.”

Hermann considered this for a moment; it was a resourceful solution, and quite considerate. He agreed. Newt slipped out the door, and Hermann pushed his pajama bottoms down and climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up to his collarbones.

Newt came back with a bundled-up towel. He shut the door behind him again, set the towel at the foot of the bed, then, knowing he was lit well enough for Hermann to see him clearly, he began to shimmy his hips back and forth as he slowly stripped out of his t-shirt. He hummed a sultry tune as he did so, and this made Hermann laugh, albeit with embarrassment. Newt stuck with it, hooking his thumbs into his pajama bottoms and sliding them down as he gyrated to his own song, interrupting himself to say, “Now you can really get a good look at all this sexiness, for as long as you like.” He flexed his arms like a bodybuilder, uttering a masculine grunt every time he struck a new pose. He turned around, showing off his backside, gesturing to his pudge and his toneless muscles, growling, “You like this? This drive you wild with desire?”

Now Hermann was really, genuinely laughing, which he knew was what Newt wanted. Newt continued, “Let me tell you something that will really make you hot: my dick and balls have _almost_ completely returned to the outside of my body, after jumping in the river.”

“Sounds like tonight is my lucky night, then,” Hermann said.

Newt grabbed the towel from the bed and moved it over to the nightstand. As it unfolded, Hermann saw that Newt had brought something else, a bottle of something.

“What's that?”

Newt put one knee on the bed, then paused to look back over his shoulder. “Oh, it's lube.”

Hermann was taken aback. “That's...I mean...I didn't realize that we would be doing...that.”

Newt was unfazed. “Lube isn't just for butt stuff, you know. I just brought it in case we needed it. We're gonna do whatever you wanna do.” To make Hermann laugh again, Newt flopped into the bed like a fish out of water. His light-heartedness was contagious; Hermann’s timidity was fading, and he was now feeling _happy_ anticipation for what would happen next.

Newt wrestled with the covers until he managed to climb underneath them, and scooted right up to Hermann. He almost dove in for a kiss, put paused. “Oh wait,” he said, laughing at himself. He took his glasses off and set them on the nightstand. Turning back, he looked Hermann in the eye and said, “Okay, please be honest with me: have you ever done this before?”

Hermann swallowed. “...Not with a man.”

Newt raised a dubious eyebrow.

“Alright,” Hermann admitted, “not with anyone,”

Newt just beamed. “That's so cool,” he cooed, “that you waited for me.”

That wasn't exactly the reason for things playing out the way they had in his life, but Hermann wasn't in the mood to correct him—for once.

Newt gripped Hermann’s waist, encouraging him to turn so that they could be closer. “Okay here, are you good on your side?” he asked.

“On this side, yes.”

“Awesome.” Newt budged up against Hermann, so that their cocks and bellies pressed against each other. He reached down, and shoved his hand between them, feeling Hermann’s cock. “You're not hard yet,” he remarked.

Indeed, Hermann had gotten so anxious, he’d lost the half-erection he’d had in the living room. “I suppose I’m not,” he said. “Perhaps it would help if you kiss me some more?”

“Hey, whatever freaky thing it takes to rock your world,” Newt said, and obliged.

Hermann just couldn’t believe how good kissing felt. Each time Newt’s tongue touched his own, it sent a pulse of pleasure into his belly and down his thighs. The wet sounds their mouths made were so beautiful and filthy. His prick began to grow and throb, until it was a solid ridge against Newt’s belly. As they rubbed against each other, he could feel wet trails of pre-come on his skin.

“Yeah, there you go,” Newt said into Hermann’s mouth, “just let yourself feel good.”

Newt kept his hands above Hermann’s waist, mapping his chest and arms and back, and slid one ankle over Hermann’s, to further entwine their bodies, but he did not intrude on that area that Hermann was shy about. He did, however, push Hermann to be assertive with his own hands, grabbing his wrists to show him that there were other places to put them besides Newt’s arm. Soon, Hermann was grabbing handfuls of Newt, exploring his body, relishing the encouraging noises Newt made in response.

In the dark and under the covers, it was easy to forget that there were six other people just a few rooms away. It felt like he and Newt were the only people in the cabin. No: it felt like they were the only people in the _world_. Everything was so perfectly cozy-warm, so soft and quiet. His prick flexed against Newt’s hip; his body craved more, he was feeling _needy_ in a way he never had before, but at the same time, he wanted to things to go on like this forever, just luxuriating in the heavenly teasing and strange tugs of desire inside him.

Newt’s hands continued to roam. “Does it hurt if I touch you here, or does it feel good?”

“It’s good,” Hermann said, to his utter surprise. Newt had just been touching his hip, his scars, and he hadn’t flinched, hadn’t gotten flustered. And even now that he’d noticed, it was still…fine. Newt’s reverence and enthusiasm hadn’t diminished, and all of Hermann’s fears about his disfigurement, about what it _meant_ , seemed to unravel in an instant.

“I think we can make this better,” Newt said. He gently eased Hermann onto his back. “Here.” He reached out to the nightstand for the lube. “I'm gonna use some of this, just to make it more slippery, okay?”

Hermann nodded. Newt squeezed some lube directly onto Hermann's prick, then swung one leg over him, straddling him and then pressing against him once more. He rolled his hips, spreading the lube around and making everything slick. “God,” Hermann whispered.

“That's nicer, yeah?”

“Yes.” Not only did it feel incredible, but Hermann was now mesmerized by the silhouette of Newt above him, caging Hermann with his arms, his hips rolling rhythmically, his thighs pumping, his whole body radiating heat.

Newt adjusted himself, scooting his knees up closer to Hermann's chest, so that instead of Hermann's cock rubbing against Newt's, it was rubbing against his balls and the cleft of his behind. “How's that? That good, too?”

“ _Ah_ ,” was all Hermann could say.

At the end of one stroke, Newt grabbed the bottle and squeezed a fresh dollop of lube onto Hermann's prick, then resumed, and everything was so squishy-wet now, Hermann could barely think. He could feel the pucker of Newt's hole rubbing all along the shaft of his cock; it was so startlingly intimate, he felt that there was nothing he could do to improve the experience, no touch he could deliver or words he could say. Newt was doing everything, and Hermann dropped his hands to his sides, ready to let it wash over him.

Newt shifted again, this time lifting himself, just slightly, just enough that Hermann felt some cool air on his slickened skin. Then, his cock was pressing against Newt's hole again, and when Newt reached behind himself to assist, Hermann felt a little give to that flesh, and then the tip of his cock was being squeezed by tight, hot muscle. He was inside Newt.

“Oops, haha,” Newt said, feigning innocence. “This alright?”

Hermann jerked his head in what he hoped was understood as an affirmative. It was all he could do just to get air into his lungs, and each exhalation was a whine. Newt's body was squeezing him like a fist.

“Good,” Newt said with a grin, “then let’s just get that all in there.” Having gotten the go-ahead, he continued to lower himself, opening to Hermann and then clasping him, engulfing his cock in exquisite tight heat.

Even once Hermann seemed to be fully seated inside him, Newt ground against him, like he needed to get the last little bit inside before he could be satisfied. After squeezing out even more lube into his hands, Newt then began to give himself a luxurious two-handed wank while he rode Hermann’s cock. Hermann closed his eyes as they rolled back in his head; it was difficult to process what was happening. He felt so naughty, taking his pleasure from Newt’s arsehole, but at the same time, it was so sweet; Newt was so snug and warm inside. Hermann had never suspected that he could be this: a being who received pleasure and gave pleasure – no brains, no analysis, just wet orifices welcoming hot flesh. A sweet ache suffused his body, the first hint that he might be nearing orgasm. 

With each plunge downward onto Hermann’s cock, Newt groaned, “Oh yeah, right there, right there,” as though he were coaching Hermann, when in fact Hermann was doing nothing, just letting Newt do all the work. “Are you gonna come soon?” Newt groaned breathily, shuddering. “ _Unnnh_ , are you gonna _cuh-hum_?”

Hermann said, “God, I will if you keep asking like that.”

Newt slipped one hand under his rigid prick, to squeeze and fondle his balls. “Good, do it. I'm gonna come when I feel you coming in me.”

The very idea of this was too wonderfully filthy for Hermann to handle; he growled, “Now, _now_ ,” and his hips jerked as his orgasm engulfed him. The release of tension was astonishing; in that moment, all of the evening’s embarrassment and fear drained away, leaving only a magnificent oblivion of warmth and pleasure.

As his orgasm rippled through him and he began to ejaculate, he was vaguely aware of Newt tugging himself to completion, swearing joyously as he bounced a few more times. He released hard, and thick pulses of spunk landed on Hermann’s stomach and up to his ribs. Even then, he continued to clench around Hermann, his rhythm unmistakably deliberate, like he was trying to milk every last drop.

At last, Newt relaxed, and heaved a happy sigh. “God damn, Hermann, you're really good.”

Hermann’s mouth slanted in confusion. “I didn't...do anything. I barely moved.”

“Right? Christ, imagine if you had! I don't know if I'd have been able to handle it.”

Hermann's face grew hot with embarrassment, but Newt could not see him blush, nor would he likely have cared. “ _Unhh_ that was good,” he said, almost to himself, and reached over to the nightstand. They groaned a little together as the stretch caused Hermann to slip from Newt’s body. Grabbing the towel, Newt gave them both a cursory clean-up, just enough so they could sleep comfortably, then tilted to one side, collapsing on the bed and tossing the towel on the floor. He slipped one arm around Hermann’s shoulders, encouraging him to cuddle up, and Hermann tucked his head under Newt’s chin.

“You look sexy when you come,” Newt said.

Hermann had no idea how to respond to this, so he just said, “Do I?”

“Yeah, it’s like, the way your head tips back, and your mouth opens. Your mouth is, like, I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s hot in a weird way. Wait, no, I said that wrong. What I meant was, it’s weird in a hot way.”

“Well, thank you, I think,” Hermann said. They lapsed into a wonderful silence, lazily nuzzling each other between gratified sighs. This must have been that “afterglow” that Hermann had heard about. Well, it was delightful. He wouldn’t have minded if this feeling went on all weekend: just alternating between intense cascades of desire and sleepy afterglow. Except–

“Oh no,” Hermann said softly, “but what’s going to happen tomorrow?”

Newt snuffled, like he’d been dozing. “I dunno, I figured we’d just chill.”

Hermann twisted so they were face to face again. “I mean, what’s going to happen when everyone realizes what we’ve done?”

Newt seemed hurt by this question. “You don’t regret what we did, do you?”

What a ridiculous thing to suggest. Hermann hadn’t meant it that way. He was, however, baffled that Newt wasn’t picturing the same thing he was: himself and Newt walking out of the bedroom together, to be greeted by the lewd taunts of their colleagues, their eyes contemptuous even as they laughed, as if blaming Hermann for forcing them to conjure a mental picture of him naked, him having sex with Newt.

“I don’t regret it at all,” Hermann said at last, “it’s just that it’s none of their business.”

Newt nodded solemnly. “I understand. I guess I didn’t think it through when we, uh, got started out there.” He ran his fingers lightly up and down Hermann’s arm for a minute, then said, more cheerfully, “Tell you what: let’s cuddle for a while, and when you fall asleep, I’ll sneak back upstairs. In the morning, no one will be the wiser.”

This was a suitably practical solution, albeit one with a serious flaw: “Alright,” Hermann said, “but you promise you won’t go until I fall asleep?”

Newt smiled. “Promise.” This time, he was the one who snuggled against Hermann, wishing to be enveloped in his arms.

With Newt’s weight comfortably upon him, Hermann drifted to sleep, and once he closed his eyes, he didn’t open them again until the gray light of morning filled the room. Newt was still at his side. Hermann gazed fondly at him, until he realized that the plan had been abandoned.

“Newton!” he whispered harshly. “You were supposed to leave!”

Newt came awake with a snort. “Wha? Oh man, sorry, I fell asleep. It was so comfortable.” He wiped the sleep from his eyes, then saw that Hermann was panicking. “Look, don’t worry. I can probably sneak up now. I’ll bet no one’s even up yet.”

From the kitchen, they heard dishes clanking, and cereal being poured. Hermann sighed.

“Hey, it’s still not a problem,” Newt reasoned. “We can just tell them—”

There was a knock on the door, two swift raps, and then Ben opened it without waiting for a response. “Hey Hermann,” he said as he leaned in, “we can’t find Newt. Do you know where he—oh shit! Sorry! Sorry!” he slammed the door shut, and then things got very quiet in the kitchen.

“Okay, listen to me. Listen to me.” Newt tilted Hermann’s chin so they were face to face. “Who cares? Okay, so now they all know. Are you really going to let that embarrass you? Hell, no. Let’s just go out there…”

“Presumably get dressed first.”

Newt rolled his eyes. “Let’s get dressed first, then go out there, and just act like it’s no big deal. Alright?”

Hermann felt considerable remorse, having to get up, when the bed was so comfortable, and Newt was so warm. But the longer they lingered here, the longer their colleagues would gossip and speculate. They put on their pajamas, then did a few trial runs, whispering back and forth, practicing how they would greet the others. Hermann’s stomach flipped as he opened the door, doing his best to put on a look of confidently nonchalance.

“Good morning, everyone.” he said, somehow managing to sound both curt and cheery. Newt followed behind him, waving. Hermann poured himself some cereal, and Newt fished around in a grocery bag on the floor for his box of Pop Tarts. Hermann sensed several sets of bewildered, amused eyes on both of them, but pretended he didn’t, and eventually, the conversations in the living room and at the dining room table resumed, that had been going on before Ben had barged in on them. The loveseat was free, and Newt and Hermann plopped down onto it together, tucking into their breakfast.

Anaya cleared her throat. “We were talking about maybe going for a hike this morning. We didn’t know if you’d like to join us.” She glanced at Hermann’s cane.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Newt said, even though he knew the question wasn’t for him. “It’s nasty-cold out there. That’s for suckers. Hermann and I are gonna stay here in front of the fire, where it’s warm.”

“Suit yourselves,” Anaya replied, possibly with some relief at not having to deal with the two weirdos for a while. Half the group began to migrate towards the kitchen, packing up lunches for their hike, while the rest, still in their pajamas, went upstairs to dress.

Once certain that everyone was out of earshot, Newt leaned over and whispered to Hermann, “The second they leave, let’s get in the hot tub. Ben won’t be around to enforce the rule.”

“The rule about not talking about work?” Hermann asked, wondering why that was important. Then he understood. “Oh!” He looked around sheepishly, making sure no one heard. “The _other_ rule.”

**Author's Note:**

> berlynn-wohl.tumblr for more of this sort of nonsense


End file.
